during the night, since she’d left her door open, something about King Neffer not playing fair. She was very grateful to them for bringing her home with them last night.
Savich said, “We need to leave soon for Quantico, Lucy, to see Dr. Hicks.”
“I called Coop, asked him to meet us at Quantico. I’d really like him there, too, Dillon. Oh, dear, I forgot to call Uncle Alan. I’ll be ready in—” Her cell phone rang. “Excuse me. Oh, it’s Uncle Alan. Hello. I was going to call you.”
Savich listened as he helped Sean wash his hands, and so did Sherlock as she put clean dishes back into the cabinets. Neither missed the devastation in the rise and fall of Alan Silverman’s voice. Lucy’s face was white and set.
Several minutes later, Lucy clicked off her cell. She patted Sean’s clean hand as she said, “Uncle Alan said Detective Horne came by earlier, told them what had happened. He is understandably shocked and disbelieving. I suppose I would be, too, if I hadn’t—well, he and Aunt Jennifer are very worried about me, want me to stay with them. I told them no, I can’t. Then Uncle Alan told me he didn’t think we should have a memorial, that if we did, everything would come out and my grandmother’s name would become infamous. He wants to bury grandfather’s remains privately. I suppose I agree. What good would it do to give the tabloids this kind of sick story?”
CHAPTER 27
An hour later, Coop, Savich, and Lucy walked into Dr. Emanuel Hicks’s office in the Jefferson Dormitory at Quantico.
Dr. Emanuel Hicks, one of the FBI’s top psychiatrists, was skinny as a knife blade, a problem for him only because he was known for impersonating Elvis, and a skinny Elvis was hard to pull off. He took Lucy’s hand, looked her in the eyes, and said, “Lucy, I know it took courage for you to agree to come to see me, to let me help you try to go back and remember what you were so frightened of in that attic. I agree with Savich that something might have triggered actual fears from your childhood, memories that have been buried deep in your mind. Now, you were five years old?”
“Almost six. Dr. Hicks, I’ve been thinking about it, and now I simply can’t imagine forgetting anything that important. I’m thinking those feelings weren’t real.”
Dr. Hicks said easily, “People do find that hard to believe; they want to dismiss feelings that suddenly surface, but I’ve seen it. Lucy, even before you opened that lid, you must have known, deep down, that something terrible was in that trunk. Do you prefer to think you simply manufactured the little girl—namely, yourself—to help you deal with what you were feeling, to explain your own fears?”
Lucy leaned toward him, hope in her voice. “Doesn’t that make sense?”
“No, I’d rather not be frightened like that again, but I know it may be the only way to find out what really happened. So, I’m ready when you are, Dr. Hicks. I’ve never been hypnotized before. What if I don’t go under?”
Dr. Hicks said, “I think you’ll go under like a dream, Lucy. You’re very intuitive. Isn’t that what you told me, Savich?” At Savich’s nod, he continued. “That always makes it easier.”
Savich said, “Perhaps more than intuitive.”
“Oh, no, surely not,” Lucy said.
Coop was standing very quietly by the single window. “I remember that time in Kansas City when you just sat back and said you’d bet your knickers the old guy next door was the killer we were looking for. You said it was by looking at him, something in his eyes. Of course, it turned out it was that old man. Yes, I’d say you’re more than intuitive, Lucy.”
Dr. Hicks said, “Would you like to tell us how you came to that conclusion, Lucy?”
“Let’s not go there, Dr. Hicks,” Lucy said. “It was a onetime deal, nothing more than that. You know as well as I do that Dillon is the psychic one in this room, a regular FBI legend. Now, I appreciate your all being nice to me and trying to get me calm, but I want to get on with it.”
Dr. Hicks looked down at her. “Perhaps you’ll be more ready to deal with it now. As to the other, perhaps you’re indeed more like Savich than you imagine.”
Savich said, “On the other hand, I’ve learned that when something’s bothering you, Lucy, it’s all right there, on your face, an open book. Right, Coop?”
“Yeah, when she tries to bluff at our poker games, everyone laughs at her.”
Dr. Hicks only smiled as he pulled an old gold watch on a golden chain out of his vest pocket. “This is my granddad’s watch, nothing more than that. There’s nothing to this, really. The most important thing is for you to relax, Lucy. Take some deep breaths, try to empty out all the stress, all the painful questions, from your mind. All you have to do is follow the watch with your eyes and listen to my voice. That’s right, deep breaths. Sit back, relax, and look at the watch, all right?”
Slowly, he swung the watch in front of her eyes while speaking to her quietly. In less than two minutes, Dr. Hicks nodded. “Savich, do you want to question her?”
Savich nodded, sat forward, and took Lucy’s limp right hand between his. “Lucy, do you remember you and your dad moving in with your grandparents?”
It wasn’t Lucy’s voice that spoke; it was a very small child’s—high, soft, whispery. “I remember my birthday party.”
“How old are you?’
“I’m two.”
“Tell me about your birthday party.”
She frowned. “There’s a clown with giant feet, and he’s making animals out of balloons, but I don’t like him; he’s big and scary.”
“Do you remember anything else about your birthday party?”
“I went to the bathroom to get away from the clown, and my daddy was in there, and he was crying. He cried a lot. I hated that clown. Grandmother made chocolate cake for me. I love chocolate cake. Daddy said my mama loved chocolate cake, too.”
“That’s good, Lucy. Now I want you to move forward in time. You’re five years old, nearly six. Are you going to have a sixth birthday party?”
She frowned again, but it wasn’t Lucy frowning, it was a little girl’s face scrunching up, no longer a toddler. She looked utterly lost and alone.
Savich squeezed her hand. “It’s all right, Lucy. What are you seeing?”
“I’m wondering why I can’t have a birthday party, and Daddy said it’s because grandfather’s gone. Gone where, to the store? He shook his head over and over, and I saw Grandmother and Daddy were really upset. I remember Uncle Alan was sitting at the kitchen table with his head down. He was real quiet, sitting there, and he said he didn’t understand why Milton could leave. Why? He never gave any sign he wasn’t happy. And why hadn’t he said anything? Why? And then he didn’t say anything else. Aunt Jennifer kept patting me. Everyone looked like they wanted to cry; they were always talking in whispers. And when I looked at them, they smiled—you know, fake smiles.”
“Did you ask them why they were smiling fake smiles?”
“Sort of. They told me it wasn’t anything at all, and I knew that wasn’t true. Grandfather didn’t come back from the store.”
“How long was your grandfather gone before your birthday?”
They watched her count off on her fingers. “Nearly a week, I think.”
“Okay, I want you to go back, Lucy, to nearly a week. Are you there? In the house?”
She nodded, a jerky sort of birdlike movement, like a child’s.
“What do you see?”
